


When It Counts

by iguessyouregonnamissthepantyraid



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Nick Hawley Introspective, Rated M purely for language, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 03:36:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2607038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iguessyouregonnamissthepantyraid/pseuds/iguessyouregonnamissthepantyraid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick Hawley does not claim to be a perfect person.</p>
<p>Set before, during, and after the CPR-in-the-library scene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When It Counts

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to do a little piece trying to understand where Hawley's coming from, why he's helping them so much, etc. You know, other than the fact that he's got a huge crush on Abbie. Also I thought it was a crime we never got an Ichabbie hug after that scene, so that's in here, too.

Nick Hawley does not claim to be a perfect person.

Hell—he doesn’t even claim to be a _good_ person.

He’s a thief, a smuggler, an arms dealer. He has always dealt in supernatural artifacts that—until recently—he never even believed in. He’s just profited off of the wild beliefs of his clients. _This trinket can ward off demons, Mr. Hawley, and I’ll pay you handsomely for it._ Done. _This piece of jewelry can bend spirits to the will of whoever holds it, Mr. Hawley._ Sounds good. Name your price. _This hollowed out bone has the power to put women under powerful hypnosis, and it is very, very valuable._ Sure. Cool. I’ll have it to you by Monday.

And besides, he’s at least a good person when it _counts_. When he saw that little girl being led into the woods with some old asshole she _clearly_ wasn’t supposed to be with, Hawley let him have it—or at least he tried to. And he damn near got himself killed for his trouble. _And_ he even came after the guy again for round two.

Okay, so maybe he had some ulterior motives for round two, in the form of a priceless carved bone flute, and maybe he turned down the offer to go on round _three_ —but the kid got out okay, didn’t she?

_By “the other day,” you mean when Crane and I asked you to help us take down a vicious, child-stealing creature and you said… no?_

Whatever. He doesn’t try to fool himself.

He does not claim to be a good person.

And until recently, he didn’t _care_. You don’t _need_ to be a good person to do this job.

He blinks, coming out of his train of thought for a second, and he looks down at the book in his lap. He’s just skimmed over a full page of _On Monsters_ without actually taking in a single word of it. He rolls his eyes and slams the book shut with a little more force than is strictly necessary. This monster book just isn’t holding his attention right now, and all because of that _stupid_ conversation with Mills.

Why does it matter, anyway? Who cares if Abbie thinks he’s an ass? Jenny _knew_ he was an ass, and _that_ never mattered to him—Hell, it never mattered to her, either.

Maybe it’s normal for him to be thinking differently, to have his thoughts all jumbled up and his nerves on end. It _is_ Armageddon, after all.

He sighs, standing up to bring the book to the copier; he’ll have an easier time reading this back at the pier.

… Or, maybe, halfway through copying he book, he’ll be jerked away from his thoughts by a damn _gunshot_ on the other end of the library.

Hawley jumps. His eyes widen and he automatically stiffens, his eyes scanning the library from his limited vantage point in the corner.

People are already moving, quickly filing out the door to get away from where the gunshot came.

But there’s no screams, just a bunch of nervous glances toward the back of the library, so maybe no one’s actually been shot…?

“Lieutenant?! _NO!”_

Shit.

Crane. _Abbie._

Shit, shit, shit.

Hawley runs.

It’s not hard to make a beeline for Crane’s frantic shouting—“LIEUTENANT?! _LIEUTENANT?!_ ”—but between pushing his way around all the people moving in the opposite direction and weaving around bookshelves, Hawley gets there about a split second before Crane pulls Abbie out of—out of—

_Aw, what the hell?_

He doesn’t even pause to gape at the fucking _black hole_ in the middle of the library floor before it shrinks and vanishes. He doesn’t have _time_. Instead he sees Crane pull Abbie out of it, sees that she’s soaked and that she’s not _breathing_ and that Crane isn’t doing _anything about it—_

“No, no, no, no, A—Abbie!”

“What are you waiting for?! Give her mouth-to-mouth, man!” he shouts, but before he even finishes the sentence, he has already skidded to a halt beside Abbie and shoved Crane out of his way.

In any case, Crane doesn’t seem to have understood him. “She’s _drowned!_ ”

_Shit, shit, shit, fucking shit!_

It’s been a _really_ long time since he’s done this, but adrenaline takes over and gets rid of any uncertainty he might have had. He starts chest compressions— _one, two, three, four, five…—_ and he can practically _feel_ Crane over his shoulder, breathing down his neck, Mr. History-Expert-Big-Shot-College-Professor who apparently somehow doesn’t know what fucking CPR is—

Whatever. At least he’s ( _kind of_ ) staying out of the way.

He gives Abbie two breaths, goes back to chest compressions, and gulps down the anxiety rising in his chest. _She’s gonna be fine, she’s gonna be fine, no way in Hell am I sitting here and just letting her die, no fucking way._

He’s vaguely aware of Crane saying something behind him.

He doesn’t hear it.

_Come on._

Again he gives her two breaths, goes back to chest compressions.

And then finally, _finally_ , Abbie coughs. Water spews out of her mouth and she damn near gags on it all over again, but she tries to sit up and gasps, loudly, her eyes opening and going wide as she struggles to get enough air back into her lungs.

Hawley falls and stumbles backward, panting and trying to catch his own breath, running a shaky hand through his hair. He can feel his pulse running through his temples at a mile a minute, but he keeps his eyes on Abbie, watching as her coughs slowly subside into deep, shaky breaths.

_She’s okay. She’s okay._

Crane is still crouched down right by her legs, watching her every bit as intently as Hawley is, if not more. Hawley has a feeling Crane wouldn’t notice if a bomb dropped nearby right now.

“Lieu—Lieutenant? Abbie?”

Crane waits for her to respond, but even in between the coughing fits it doesn’t look like she has the strength to be saying much of anything. She tries to sit up again, still coughing and trying to clear her throat of the nasty, stale water, and it only takes a second for her to lose her balance and nearly fall back again.

But this time, Crane catches her. He shoots out an arm that she hurriedly grabs on to, and slowly, carefully, he puts the other arm around her waist and pulls her against him.

Hawley frowns and chews on the inside of his cheek, watching the scene, thinking that maybe he should tell Crane to back off and give her some space. But he decides against it. She looks like she’ll do fine—she’ll still need a medic to check her out just in case, but she’ll be okay. (If she’s actually related to Jenny, then it’ll take more than some damn _water_ to kill her, anyway, he thinks.) Besides, she’s shivering like crazy, and Crane’s hand running up and down her back appears to be helping.

He takes another deep breath to steady himself and pulls out his phone to call an ambulance.

How he’s going to explain a drowning in a freaking _library_ , he has no idea, but Hawley figures he’s talked his way out of worse.

As the phone rings, he still can’t take his eyes away from Abbie, his mind still grappling with the fact that she very nearly just _died_. He takes another deep breath and lets it out slowly, his pulse finally beginning to come back down to normal.

Nick Hawley does not claim to be a good person.

But he thinks, in the face of the coming Armageddon, he might just be able to _try_.


End file.
